


Kindling

by dakeyras



Series: Naruto Fantasy Week 2020 Oneshots [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bromance, Gen, Heist, Let's go steal from the gods - what coud go wrong?, Magic, Naruto Fantasy Week, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Uchiha Madara Has Issues, Warring States Period (Naruto)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dakeyras/pseuds/dakeyras
Summary: “So the gods come down, and we, what, distract them and go through their pockets?” Hashirama asks.Madara nods. “Well, metaphorically.”“This is going to go *so well*.”(In which things are less metaphorical than planned)
Relationships: Senju Hashirama & Uchiha Madara
Series: Naruto Fantasy Week 2020 Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809535
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21
Collections: Naruto Fantasy Week 2020





	Kindling

**Author's Note:**

> For Naruto Fantasy Week 2020: Prompt is 'Mythical'
> 
> Each submission I'm making has a different setting, style and genre.

Madara Uchiha is a proud – some might say arrogant – man. He has to be. He leads proud men and women, he fights for them, and sometimes he has to bury them. But even for him, this is too much, Hashirama decides.

“Why not? Give me one reason why not,” Madara demands.

Hashirama grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him. “Because they’re  _ gods _ . You  _ don’t _ steal from them!”

“You’re just saying that because nobody ever has.” Madara’s voice is firm, his face is set. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword.

There’s no turning Madara when he gets like this. Hashirama can either throw himself in headfirst beside his friend, or pick up the pieces when it all ends in tears. He sighs, decision already made. “Well, when are we setting off?”

“I was thinking we could go tomorrow. I don’t have any plans yet,” Madara says casually. “I’ll leave Izuna in charge, and you leave Tobirama in charge. It’ll be good for them, give them some experience.”

There is something deeply wrong with Madara’s thought processes, Hashirama decides. The uneasy peace between Uchiha and Senju might or might not survive  _ one of  _ Izuna or Tobirama. It’s as good as dead if they both lead their respective clans.

“Wouldn’t it be faster to give them each a club and throw them in a pit? That way they’ll only kill each other, and not both clans as well,” Hashirama suggests, only half-joking.

Madara shrugs. “I’ll leave the specifics up to you, but that sounds reasonable.”

The abrupt change in leadership is a  _ terrible _ idea, even if it’s temporary. It’s so bad, in fact, that it takes all evening for Madara to talk Hashirama around.

“So how do you even plan to do this?” Hashirama asks the next morning. They’ve left the joint clan camp behind. “Is there, like, a specific god you want to steal from? Or are we just walking in a random direction until we see someone with bulging pockets and a glowing aura?”

Madara winks and taps the side of his nose. It looks ridiculous, and Hashirama tells him so. They bicker for the next few minutes as Madara pores over a series of faded maps.

“The way I see it, we can’t reach the gods, but they can reach us,” he explains. “So we’ll go on top of  _ that  _ mountain,” he jabs his finger at a spot on the map, “and shout at them until they come down to talk to us. There’s a shrine on top where a goddess once visited the mountain. If we can’t reach the gods there, we can’t reach them anywhere.”

“So the gods come down, and we, what, distract them and go through their pockets?” Hashirama asks.

Madara nods. “Well, metaphorically.”

“This is going to go  _ so well _ .”

The foot of the mountain would have taken at least a week to reach, but Hashirama casts  _ Transport via Plants _ . He and Madara step into a spreading oak, and come out of a giant pine tree that’s a mere mile from the foothills. They hike the rest of the way on foot.

Above them, a succession of crags and ridges stretches into the clouds. The mountainside looked a lot more traversable on the map, Hashirama points out. Perhaps a bit less bravado and a bit more planning would have been useful?

Madara sulks until Hashirama starts growing a wooden staircase out of the mountainside. “Can you cast anything that doesn’t involve trees?” he asks.

Hashirama shrugs. “Occasionally I do something with shrubs.”

“Remind me why we’re friends again?”

Hashirama rolls his eyes at Madara. “Just because the Senju are druids doesn’t mean we all need to turn into bears or whatever.”

“Let’s just start climbing.”

Madara takes the steps two at a time. Hashirama follows him, adding a new flight of stairs whenever they reach a new cliff face. The flat-ish patches of land in between have interesting plants growing on them, but Madara doesn’t give him time to study them.

“The gods wait for no man!” Madara shouts as he taps his foot beside the next sheer rock face. “And neither do I.”

“You’re waiting for me right now,” Hashirama points out.

It’s a long and slow process to reach the top of the mountain. They set up camp halfway up, sheltering in a hollow in the rock. It’s cold, but not unbearably so. Hashirama grows out a thick layer of moss for them to sleep on.

The next morning, the journey continues. As the shrine grows closer, Hashirama’s concern grows. Madara is sometimes a tad overzealous, and adding actual deities to the mix will be volatile. On the one hand, they’ve not died yet. On the other hand, that kind of thinking is what gets people killed.

“We’re close,” Madara says.

The shrine is more of a temple, really. Under a marble roof, there’s a row of granite pillars leading inside. There sits the sacred rock left behind where the Sun Goddess touched the earth and blessed it for all the children of man. Huge fingerprints are still imprinted on the stone, but when Hashirama looks at them for too long he starts to grow dizzy.

“Oi, Amaterasu!” Madara shouts. There’s no answer save for a faint echo.

“Shouldn’t we be more respectful?” Hashirama asks.

Madara snorts. “Grow a pair, Senju. If we’re meek and grateful, do you think she’ll pay any attention to us?”

“Why does it have to be the Sun Goddess though? Isn’t a lesser god safer?”

“Where’s the glory in that?” Madara demands. “We do this right or we don’t do it at all. And we’re not going back empty-handed!”

“Just as long as we’re able to go back at all,” Hashirama mutters mutinously.

“I heard that,” Madara says. “Anyway. Amaterasu, you big coward, come out of your hiding place!”

Hashirama looks up. “Is it just me,” he asks, “or is the sun getting bigger?”

Madara squints. “I think it’s working. Hurry up, you lazy weasel!”

It’s getting warmer now. Hashirama focuses and calls up a tree to his left. It’s just a sapling at the moment, but in a minute’s time the trunk will be wide as a door. A quick  _ Transport via Plants _ will let them escape if needed. It’s become a staple trick of his, to the point that Madara has started calling them Hashirama’s ‘escape trees’.

“Look,” Madara calls. “The stone – it’s glowing!”

Hashirama glances into the shrine again, and quickly looks away. The fiery rock hurts his eyes and leaves purple afterimages, spidery runes of great and terrible power. Madara is staring, his wild gaze fixed on the unnatural sight.

“Your eyes – they’re bleeding!” Hashirama says.

“We don’t have time for petty details. Amaterasu’s almost here.”

It’s true. A speck of sunlight is falling from the heavens, bright and beautiful. Hashirama sees the silhouette of a dragon in it.

**How very bold you are.** The sound tears through the air, rings from the rocks, shimmers all around them. Hashirama’s tree is almost ready, and he’s seriously considering just dragging Madara through, and fleeing the scene.  **You are lucky I am in a good mood.**

“Noble Amaterasu, we thank you for gracing us with your presence,” Hashirama begins. The ground is bright with reflected light from the Sun Goddess, and he has to squint. He casts  _ Barkskin  _ as a precaution, and wooden armour grows around him.

“Keep stalling,” Madara hisses. His sword is in his hand.

The escape tree is grown, and Hashirama begins to cast – only to stop when it starts smoking.

Amaterasu laughs. It sounds like an avalanche.  **You are not leaving here until I permit it.** Hashirama curses and begins growing another tree, this one sheltered behind a rocky outcropping. Beside him, his first attempt is quickly reduced to a bonfire.

“So this is fire,” Madara says with his hungry eyes, staring at the burning tree. “Belonging to the gods alone.”

**I believe you had some things you wanted to say to me.** Amaterasu drifts closer now, her massive body undulating through the air. Her golden eyes spin, and liquid fire drips down to the rocks below.  **‘Weasel’ and ‘coward’, you call me. To me, you are worms, and I have not decided yet whether or not to squish you.**

“Do something,” Madara whispers. Hashirama blinks. The sound came from up ahead – and he realises that the Madara beside him is an illusion. The real Madara must be sneaking around somewhere, invisible.

Hashirama tries to think of a diversion. “Amaterasu, whose glory is like the sun, I am humbled by your presence. I will go out into the world and spread the story of your beauty to all who have ears to listen.” His prose is losing some of its polish as he struggles to keep his replacement escape tree growing.

**Cute.** Amaterasu, as far as he can tell, isn’t impressed.  **Perhaps you should worry more about where your friend has disappeared to.**

“Perhaps  _ you _ should worry about that!” Madara shouts from Amaterasu’s left. His sword flashes out once and scores a tiny wound on the Sun Goddess’ flank. A few specks of red cling to the tip of the blade.

“What have you done?” Hashirama shouts. “This was supposed to be  _ theft _ , not  _ assault! They’re not the same thing! _ ”

“Run!” Madara shouts back. Hashirama is already moving, leaving his fresh-grown armour behind. It’s a shame, since the wood was perfectly moulded to his form, but it will only slow him down.

Amaterasu has been loud before, but it is nothing compared to her scream now. His hidden tree is big enough for them to travel through, but getting there means running thirty paces with no cover and a furious goddess within spitting distance.

_ Transport via Plants, _ he casts as he sprints. Behind him he hears the crackling of flames and feels a great wave of hot air. Hashirama turns just as the attack is launched at him – he’s always wanted to face his death head-on.

“ _ Wall of Force _ ,” Madara says in a clipped voice. A magical aura in the shape of an armoured knight surrounds him, and the blaze washes against it but is held back. Madara shudders with the force of the blow. “Don’t just stand there, I can’t hold this for long.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Hashirama says, but he’s already moving again. He sees Madara bring his sword up to his eyes for some reason. He’s going to ask some pointed questions once they escape.

Madara is uncharacteristically silent. Then, in a small voice, he says, “I saw your wooden armour get torched. I didn’t realise at first that you weren’t still wearing it.”

Amaterasu is preparing another attack, and Hashirama doesn’t want to stick around to test Madara’s defences any further. They can have an emotional chat, sure, but it will have to wait.

“Jump through this tree,” Hashirama instructs as he proceeds to do just that. The magical travel takes him to the base of the mountain, the same spot he and Madara had begun their ascent from.

For long seconds, Madara doesn’t appear, and worry starts to gnaw at Hashirama. What if his friend is trapped? What if the escape tree was burned down by Amaterasu? The fire of the gods is a potent force.

And then a scorched and smoking Madara falls out of the tree. “What’s that?” he demands, thrusting a finger at Hashirama’s hand, which is clutching a branch. On the end of it, crackling merrily, is a flame.

“She burned down my first tree. This stick was right next to me – I wasn’t leaving without a little something.”

Madara is still panting from his spellcasting. “So I guess we’ve stolen the secret of fire.”

“Did we really just get away with that?” Hashirama asks. “I mean, what the fuck was that? You stabbed the Goddess of the Sun and  _ lived _ .”

“I did more than that,” Madara says. He wipes the blood from his eyes, but they’re still red. “That god juice is really something.”

It takes a second for Hashirama to catch on. “That’s just disgusting. You put divine blood in your eyes? Why?”

Madara’s eyes shine. Hashirama sees three black marks against the red iris. “Because there are sights revealed to me that no mortal has ever seen, secrets that no tongue has ever spoken of. One day I’ll have the power of the Sun Goddess herself.”

“You really have a bit of an obsession with the gods, don’t you,” Hashirama says. “Did you really make that Wall of Force look like Amaterasu’s brother?”

“What’s life without a little bit of flair?”

“It’s longer, for a start.”

Madara laughs. “But look at this! I have these beautiful eyes, you have a piece of the fire of the gods, and we’re both alive. What more could we ask for on a day like this?”

“That’s all very true, but I’m shocked that Amaterasu was stopped by a simple Wall of Force. Did she not have anything that could harm you through your shield?”

“There’s nothing simple about that spell, I’ll have you know. And she did curse me after I stopped her fire, but I’m pretty sure that was just regular cursing, not anything magical or meaningful,” Madara says. “What’s ‘Curse of Hatred’ even supposed to  _ mean? _ ”

“Do you think we’ve seen the last of Amaterasu?” Hashirama asks.

“No, I’m sure she’ll come after us both again. But that’s a problem for another day.”

Hashirama shakes his head. Only Madara can be so unbothered by a deity after his blood. “Let’s head home with this. Maybe Tobirama and Izuna haven’t entirely ruined our alliance yet.”

“Great idea,” Madara says, and claps him on the shoulder. “Plus we can show off our stolen goods.”

Hashirama cradles the burning branch to his chest. It’s still sinking in; he holds a fragment of divinity in his arms. But what will the price be? Looking at Madara’s eyes, full of blood and ashes, he feels a shiver run down his spine.


End file.
